THE RAPO-GENUS CHRISTMAS BALL
There had been no social doings since the drive
had passed the flume,
And the section from Seboomook to the
Chutes was rather blue;
So the folks at Rapo-genus, where there’s rum
enough and room,
Arranged a Christmas function and invited
Murphy’s crew.
The folks at Rapo-genus hired Ezra Hewson’s
hall,
And posted up the notice for “Our Yearly
Christmas Ball.”
Now Murphy’s crew was willing and they
walked the fifteen miles,
And arrived at Rapo-genus wearing most be-
nignant smiles.
The genial floor director waited near the outer
door,
And pleasantly suggested they remove the
boots they wore.
He said that Rapo-genus wished to make of
this affair
An elegant occasion, “reshershay and day-
bonair;”
So it seemed the town’s opinion, after many
long disputes,
That’twas time to change the custom and ex-
clude the spike-sole boots.
He owned’twas rather drastic and would cause
a social jar
’Twixt Upper Ambejejus and the Twin Deps-
connequah,
“But ’tis settled,” so he told them, “that nary
lady likes
To do these fancy dances with a gent what’s
wearin’ spikes.
So I asks ye very kindly, but I asks ye one and
all,
To leave your brogan calkers on the outside of
this hall.”
“This ’ere is sort o’ sudden,” said the boss of
Murphy’s crew,
“Jest excuse us for a minute, but we don’t
know what to do.
We’ve attended social functions at the Upper
Churchill Chutes,
An’ the smartest set they had there was
a-wearin’ spike-sole boots.
Excuse us for the mention, but we feel com-
pelled to say,
’Tisn’t fair to shift a fashion all a sudden, this
’ere way;
An’ the local delegation, when it came with the
in-vite,
Omitted partunt leathers in its mention of to-
night.
So I guess ye’ll have to take us with these
spikes upon our soles,
We can’t appear in stockin’s,’cause the most of
us have holes.”
But the genial floor director guarded still the
outer door
And declared that “gents with spikers weren’t
allowed upon the floor.”
He said’twas very awkward that special guests
should thus
Be kept in outer darkness, and he didn’t want a
fuss.
But so long as Rapogenusites had issued their
decree
He hadn’t any option, “as a gent with sense
could see.”
So he passed his ultimatum, “Ye must shed
them spike-sole boots!
For we hain’t the sort of humstrums that ye’ll
find at Churchill Chutes.”
Then up spoke Smoky Finnegan, the boss of
Murphy’s crew,
Said he, “The push at Churchill sha’n’t be
slurred by such as you.
We’re gents that’s very gentle an’ we never
make a fuss,
But in slurrin’ folks at Churchill ye are also
slurrin’ us.
We have interduced the fashions up at Church-
ill quite a while,
An’ no Rapo-genus half-breeds have the right
to trig our style.
If ye’ve dropped the vogue of spikers at the
present Christmas ball
We will start the fashion over, good and solid,
that is all!
So, mister, please excuse us, but ye’ll open up
your sluice,
Or God have mercy on ye if I turn these gents
here loose!”
Then the genial floor director shouted back
within the room,
“Ho, men of Rapo-genus, here is trouble at
the boom!”
But even as he shouted, with a rush and crush
and roar,
Like a bursting jam of timber Murphy’s angels
stormed the door.
Then against them rose the sawyers of the
Rapo-genus mill,
Who rallied for the conflict with a most in-
trepid will,
But by new decree of fashion they were wear-
ing boughten suits
And even all the boomsmen had put off their
spike-sole boots.
So that gallant crew of Murphy’s simply trod
upon their feet,
And backward, howling, cursing, they com-
pelled them to retreat.
The air was full of slivers as the spikers chewed
the floor,
And the man whose feet were punctured didn’t
battle any more.
“Now, fellers, boom the outfit,” shouted Fin-
negan, the boss,
His choppers formed a cordon and they swept
the room across;
The people who were standing at the walls in
double ranks,
Were pulled and thrown to center at the order,
“Clear the banks!”
Then they herded Rapo-genus in the middle of
the room,
And slung themselves around it like a human
pocket-boom.
All the matrons and the maidens were as
frightened as could be
When Finnegan commanded, “Now collect the
boomage fee!”
At a corner of the cordon they arranged a sort-
ing-gap
And one by one the women were escorted from
the trap,
And without a word of protest, as they drifted
slowly through,
They paid their tolls in kisses to the men of
Murphy’s crew.
And at last when all the women had been sorted
from the crowd,
The men were “second-raters,” so the boss of
Murphy’s vowed.
“We will raft them down as pulp-stuff!” and
he yelled to close about,
“Now, my hearties, start the windlass,” or-
dered he, “we’ll warp ’em out!”
Through the doorway, down the stairway, grim
and struggling, thronged the press,
—All the brawn of Rapo-genus fighting hard
without success,
They were herded down the middle of the
Rapo-genus street,
—If they tried to buck the center they were
bradded on the feet;
They were yarded at the river; Murphy’s pea-
vies smashed the ice,
Though the men of Rapo-genus couldn’t smash
that human vise
That held them, jammed them, forced them!
When the water touched their toes,
Then at last they fought like demons for to
save their boughten clothes.
But as fierce were Murphy’s hearties, and their
spikers helped them win,
For they kicked and spurred their victims and
they dragged them shrieking in.
Then with water to their shoulders there they
kept them in the wet
While they gave them points on breeding and
the rules of etiquette.
And at midnight’twas decided by a universal
vote
That the strict demands of fashion do not call
for vest or coat;
That’twixt Upper Ambejejus and the Twin
Depsconnequah